


milk and honey

by stardawn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clothed Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sugar Daddy, just almost entirely smut tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 23:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9095149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardawn/pseuds/stardawn
Summary: Milk and honey, soft and sweet, a rich indulgence on a dreary day.
--
Sugar Daddy AU where Han is on a business trip and Luke is along for the ride. And the sex. Mostly the sex.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightvalemeteorologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightvalemeteorologist/gifts).



> THIS IS SO LATE AND I'M SO SORRY things have been kind of rough for me lately and I ended up rewriting this story like four times because nothing was coming out the way I wanted it to
> 
> here is my other skysolo secret santa exchange gift; this one is for nightvalemeteorologist! I'm so sorry again for how late it is. it's based off this prompt:  
> "Luke/Han, modern day AU, Han is Luke's sugar daddy."
> 
> I actually didn't know much of anything about sugar daddy arrangements so I spent some time reading and it's super interesting! I kind of imagine Han likes being rich but doesn't deal well with all the fanfare of it, and tries to be all unattached with his sugar baby Luke but can't help his affection because Luke is just so adorable haha.
> 
> I hope this is an enjoyable read!

 

 

Another day, another conference.

It’s New York this time, on a weekend so dreary and dark that Han thought his alarm must have woken him up several hours early that morning. The weather is cold and miserable, like every person he has to deal with that day. It’s all budgets and investments and marketing and Han it makes Han wonder if he’s the only one in this business who’s ever even worked on a goddamn car himself.

Sometimes he wishes it had been Lando who had patented that tiny little transmission component that changed the auto industry, because he knew that Lando could bullshit his way through all these meetings and presentations and luncheons without ever losing his temper or rolling his eyes. But Lando was too smart for that; he’d put away his fortunes in shrewd investments, and hardly had to deal with any people at all to keep it flowing. Lucky bastard.

The only thing that keeps him sane that day is a secret knowing, something that his mind drifts all too easily to in his anticipation of the day’s end. There’s a gift waiting for him in his hotel room, one that he’d picked up… it must be months ago now, isn’t it? It’s a lonely life, drifting from city to city, fleeting pleasantry to fleeting pleasantry. It had started out as a quest for release, an easy access to an affection as manufactured and consumable as the world he was used to. There was a website, and an endless scroll through page after page of men and women, all lovely, but all _demanding_. Terms and conditions. Something too close to dating. Something entirely too concrete and attached for him. Sometimes he’ll let himself admit that it was selfish, but it did, in the end, lead him to Luke Skywalker.

The kid was goddamn beautiful, more than he had any right to be. Han remembers staring for what must have been an hour at the same four grainy photos on his profile, trying to figure out if he’d photoshopped the striking blue eyes and milk-soft skin that looked back at him. And he had been _easy_. Hard times, no job, struggling to get through college. Nothing too weird, nothing too violent—the only limits were in his comfort, nothing obscene expected from Han. He’s always wanted to ask how many other offers he’d received, but in the end it might have been better that he didn’t know. What mattered was that Han made the best offer—would have made just about any offer it took—and snagged himself a much-needed indulgence for long, brutal conferences like this.

The elevator opens to the penthouse lounge and he breathes a sigh of relief, shaking off the day’s stresses as he walks towards his door. A swipe of his keycard and a small click later and he’s thrown it open, dropping his briefcase unceremoniously at the entrance. He looks up, pauses—and then a smirk lights across his face.

“I see you found the little present I got ya.”

Luke smiles back sheepishly from where he sits cross-legged on the ridiculously huge bed, framed beautifully in the dark of night and the glittering of city lights through the wide windows behind him. He’s draped in the shimmering folds of a rose-tinted gold fabric, so loose it slips down over his shoulders to expose the smooth dip of his neck where it’s fringed by soft blonde hair.

“I like it,” he says, though there’s a mischievous tilt in his brow. “But as far as bathrobes go, I don’t think it’s terribly practical.”

“Maybe it ain’t meant to be practical,” Han drawls, sauntering forward to close the distance between them. He can see Luke swallow at the sight and his smirk widens. The kid _loves_ the suits. He lifts a hand to run along the exposed dip of Luke’s collarbone, trailing it lightly. “Maybe I just wanna see you in somethin’ nice.”

Luke makes a small noise as Han lifts a knee to climb forward, cupping the boy’s face as their lips meet for a slow kiss, like they both want desperately to savor the reunion, the remembering of taste and sensation. Han pushes forward, barely cognizant enough to kick his shoes off as he straddles Luke, urging the boy down onto the plush pillow behind him. He’s waited _all day_ for this. And the way Luke’s breath quickens, his hands gripping tight around Han’s shoulders as they make out, it seems like he wasn’t the only one.

Luke is like milk and honey, all smooth skin and sweet sounds. Han is certain there can’t be a lovelier man in the world. He tastes the hot pulse of Luke’s neck and savors the way the boy squirms beneath him, the loose fabric of the bathrobe doing nothing to hide his growing erection as his hips buck desperately against Han’s. Quick, stuttering breaths fall from Luke’s mouth, and then a breathless plea.

“Han, _please_ …”

Han pretends not to hear him, grazing his teeth up to Luke’s earlobe to nip it instead, drawing out a soft groan. Luke’s hands find their way up to Han’s belt and desperately hook into the buckle, tugging it loose until he can pull it off of Han completely. The older man allows this, but as soon as Luke’s hands move towards the zipper of his black pants, Han pushes his whole weight down against Luke, pinning him helplessly. He laughs, low and lustful, in Luke’s ear.

“ _Han_ ,” Luke hisses through gritted teeth, like it’s a curse. A desperate, needy curse. “ _Please._ ”

“You ain’t in any position to be making demands, kid,” Han growls, running a hand slowly up the curve of Luke’s thigh where the fabric of the bathrobe rides up between them. “You’re here because of me, you know. You’re here _for_ me.”

His nails dig into the soft flesh of Luke’s ass like a punctuation to the statement, and Luke writhes futilely underneath him. Han returns to his lips before the boy can snap back, kissing him roughly, possessively. They both know that Han’s words are empty, just another sweet indulgence in the heat of the moment, but they are _delicious_ nonetheless. Luke moans into the kiss and he’s somehow managed to wriggle his hand down to Han’s own aching erection, gripping it through the fabric of Han’s pants. And suddenly things aren’t so slow anymore.

“Switch me,” Han says as he pulls away, the only warning Luke gets before Han has lifted to fall on his back beside Luke, tugging the other man along. Even as he pants for air, Luke wastes no time in following, straddling Han with his palms against the chest of his black suit jacket. The shimmering rosy-gold fabric of his robe falls around his shoulders like a silky waterfall, flushed like Luke’s face. Han’s hands find his hips underneath the pool of fabric and grip hard, his eyes lingering lustfully where the boy’s cock strains and pools dark spots of precum.

“Beautiful,” Han breathes, nearly revenant if it weren’t also so selfish. “You’re a goddamn work of art, kid. A million dollars, easy.”

“Is that an offer?” Luke teases, leaning down to plant a saccharine kiss on Han’s lips, and then his cheek, and then his jaw. “Are you raising my allowance? You’re so generous.”

“Don’t get cocky,” the other man warns, trailing the hard bone of Luke’s hip with the pad of his thumb. Luke’s breath hitches beautifully in his ear. “Just ‘cause you look like a million dollars don’t mean you’re gonna fuck like a million dollars.”

“I bet I could.” Luke’s hands slide up his chest to find where it buttons, and his fingers worry away with an eager haste. “I bet you a million dollars I could.”

Han chuckles, one of his hands leaving Luke’s hip begrudgingly to reach up and cease his unbuttoning. “Stop mouthin’ off and get the lube, then. Let’s see what you got.”

He regrets almost immediately the weight shifting off of him and has half a mind to yank Luke back by the trailing fabric of the bathrobe, but he holds off. Instead he palms the straining bulge in his pants in anticipation, quickly finishing the work Luke had started and unzipping to free his aching cock to the open air, indulging in a ghosting touch as he watches Luke bend to search his luggage.

Luke gives him a playful grin when he returns, blue eyes lingering unabashedly over the flushed head of his cock where it stands out starkly against the black of Han’s pants. He moves to slip off what little of the bathrobe still covers him, but Han makes a noise of protest.

“Leave it on,” he insists, despite Luke’s raised eyebrow. “It’s a good look.”

“Leaving your suit on?” Luke wonders as he slips over Han to straddle him again, bottle of lube clutched tight in the hand that steadies him. Han hadn’t even realized, honestly, that it was still on; he’d gotten too distracted. But since Luke mentioned it…

“Nah,” he shrugs, folding his arms behind his head with a growing smirk. “Stop stallin’, kid. Show me what you got.”

This is something new for both of them. It’s been some unspoken part of the agreement that Han is the initiator, the control, the investor—Luke is hardly _passive_ , but he’s never exactly complained about being pinned to the mattress by Han’s body, fucked prone until he’s breathless. But this is a strangeness, Luke bracing against Han’s thighs as he slicks his fingers with lube, looking like he fully intends to win his lofty bet.

There’s something a little thrilling in it, and Han knows that Luke is milking that anticipation for all it’s worth. The draped robe hides his cock and his ass from view, and robs Han quite rudely of the sight of Luke prepping himself, but it makes what Han _can_ see—the flutter of Luke’s eyelashes when his eyes scrunch closed, the parting of his kiss-swollen lips when he slips unseen fingers inside to stretch himself for Han’s cock—all the more vivid. The other man’s chest is flushed pink and lovely like the shimmering fabric that cascades on either side of Han’s black pants and brushes ever-so-lightly against the sensitive skin of his dick, making his hands ball tighter around the sheets below them.

It must be a hundred years later when Luke finally shifts, opening his eyes into a lust-laden gaze that fixes solidly on where his legs part wider and slip forward, until the fabric covers Han’s cock entirely and the only hint of what’s underneath is the heat of Luke’s thighs around his length.

“Luke, _fuck_ ,” Han moans, finally breaking the heady silence. “If you don’t—”

But whatever Luke wasn’t supposed to do is lost to the strangled noise of pleasure that abruptly cuts off Han’s complaint when the slick heat of Luke’s entrance presses down on the head of his cock, slowly easing down. It’s as tight and hot and wonderful as ever and Han can’t stop his hands from darting up to grab Luke’s hips again—except that Luke is faster, and to Han’s surprise the younger man leans forward to pin his arms down against the sheets.

Luke’s smirk is far too smug when he hovers over Han’s mouth, nearly speaking the words against his lips. “C’mon, Han. Isn’t this what you pay me for?”

Han whispers a curse before their lips collide again, but he lets Luke’s tongue slip past his teeth to roam without resistance. What a _brat_. But it’s hard to get angry when Luke’s hips roll forward like a slow, lazy wave, rocking Han’s cock deeper and making all his thoughts a little fuzzier. The swish of fabric against fabric and skin against silk is vivid in his ears, second only to the soft moans that come from deep in Luke’s throat as their tongues tangle up in each other.

He can’t keep the pace this slow for long. Eventually Luke’s grip is slack enough to pull out of, and there isn’t any protest, only fingers winding through Han’s hair shortly after. Han’s own hands follow the dusting of blonde hairs up Luke’s thighs and to the soft dip where they meet hips, and he digs in so hard with his nails that Luke squirms under the assault, tightening his grip on Han’s tangled hair. Han’s legs shift slightly under Luke, bracing his feet flat against the bed until he can angle himself inside of Luke, and then—he thrusts up, swift and sudden, causing Luke to pull away and muffle a yelp against Han’s collar.

They find a pace together, Luke pushing back against every thrust to drive Han deeper and deeper inside him. Their mouths part as Luke holds himself up, arching his back, and the moans escape him openly and loudly now, blue eyes lidded heavy with pleasure.

"H-harder," he manages breathlessly, rocking his hips in Han's grip. "Fuck me harder."

You'd think _he_ was the sugar daddy here, the way he rides Han so greedily. With a low moan Han happily complies, chasing the building tension in his gut that winds tighter and tighter with every slick slide of friction. He misses the sight of Luke's cock, bouncing and flush, but the hint of it under the shifting fabric that pools between them is hot in its own way.

On a whim, one hand slips from Luke's thigh to follow the drape of robe to where the younger man's cock strains, wrapping up fabric in his grip as he circles Luke's girth. The reaction is immediate, Luke's fingers gripping hard into the folds of Han's suit as he gasps harshly, thrusting into the tight hold.

It only takes a few strokes of the silky fabric across his length before Luke quivers in Han's grip, leaning heavy on his chest as a tension runs through his whole body, tightening around Han's own cock... and then with a cry he's coming, a growing dark spot in the rosy shimmer that bubbles through with milky white. Han isn't far behind, riding the waves of pleasure that shiver through Luke with a few more hard, rough thrusts before the coiled heat in his gut finally breaks, spilling out in a low growl and a spurting heat that paints Luke inside with shallow strokes.

Luke falls forward onto Han, panting and spent. Han's fingers find their way back into Luke's sweat-damp hair where it drapes across his chest, a dazed grin on his face. He can feel where Luke's cum seeps into the fabric of his suit and realizes, far too late, that perhaps he ought to have taken it off after all.

Apparently of similar mind, Luke laughs as soon as he has the breath to, raising his head to prop it up against Han's hand where it strokes at his cheek.

"I've ruined your present already," he laments.

"We'll get it dry-cleaned." Han waves the concern away. "Or maybe I'll just get ya a new one."

Luke hums at that, closing his eyes for a moment and leaning into Han's touch. It's a moment more tender than Han had ever expected from a sugar arrangement, and it stirs up an uncommon emotion in him. But he doesn't have long to linger before Luke's big blue eyes flutter open again and a sly smile spreads across face.

"Sooo," he drags out, leaning forward just enough to brush a sweet kiss against Han's lips. "Did I earn my million dollars?"

Han scoffs, shaking his head more at the ridiculousness of it than at the idea. "Kid, you barely spend the money I already give you. How can I trust you to live a million dollar life, huh? I gotta do all the work here, spoiling you."

"I do to spend it," Luke argues, "I spend it on college."

This kid and his damn responsibilities. Han can hardly argue with him; he'd known from the beginning that Luke was trying to get through college, but he never would tell Han exactly how much he needed. He didn't know if he would ever understand the rural farmtown ethic that would make a man happily accept less than he needed, but he could admire it. He could also admire this growing boldness in Luke, and he messes Luke's hair lightly with a chuckle. 

"We can see about raising your allowance, then," Han reasons, resting back against the pillow. "Since you've worked _so hard_ this evening."

"Glad I'm worth it," Luke ribs, shifting around the sensitive hardness still inside of him but not pulling off, not yet; his head falls back to Han's chest with a contented sigh.

_You're worth it, kid_ , Han thinks, disgustingly sentimental in the privacy of his mind. _You're worth more than all the money I could give you._

Maybe someday, he'll be able to tell him that.


End file.
